


Baby Steps

by CountessCzan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Implied Relationship, M/M, Recovering Izaya, Spoilers for Durarara SH, Spoilers for Sunset With Orihara Izaya, gentle shizuo, hotpot fic, sorry i cant write kuon or aoba or kida casually eating hotpot, spoilers for volume 13, with izaya, yahiro my baby is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessCzan/pseuds/CountessCzan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hesitantly, Izaya takes a small step forward. This time he takes Shizuo's offered hand, and the heat that emanates from the rough palm is enough to shatter whatever shadow of pain he feels. Izaya's breath hitches when he takes another step because Shizuo's hand suddenly tightens in his; at this point, it isn't sufficient enough to say that electricity traveled through his arms. His whole physical body seems as if it ceased to exist, replaced by white surges of hot electricity crackling at every nerve ending he has.</p><p>What a fucking mess he is, if Shizuo's touch is enough to devour him like this.</p><p>or, Izaya gets to have a hotpot with (almost) everyone. (After the Fight™)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I were Ryohgo Narita, trust me, I would make sure Shizaya is canon. Unfortunately I am not Narita-sensei, so I am stuck with writing and reading this ship.
> 
> A/N: Hello, everyone! First off, I would like to thank @akashiete for motivating me to write this hotpot fic, @tastewithouttalent for suggesting to have the fic set after the Fight™, and my various mutuals on twitter (both those in the gc and not) for helping me with various little information (does shinra have a doorbell in his house? what kind of knife does izaya use? and those sort)
> 
> This is my post ketsu therapy fic. Sigh.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it.  
> With that aside, here. I hope you all have fun reading.

If Izaya's hands are trembling a little bit, he doesn't say a word.

Instead he clenches them and grabs the crutches that lie to his side, heaves his own body in a way that was starting to become more familiar, more comfortable. The strain in his muscles are ignored; slowly, carefully, he pulls himself up and when he successfully stands up with crutches underneath his arms, the rush of relief overshadows the twinge of phantom pain that thrums through his legs. He feels awkward. Standing up after sitting down for a long time is always the hardest.

With utter caution, Izaya takes a small step. Then another, and another, until he is rhythmically walking around his apartment, his footsteps (or rather, the crutches') echoing in a manner not unlike a beat of music. He wanders around, aimlessly, until he had caught the familiar bounce of  _walking_. This is nothing but a pale comparison to what he used to be, the crutches an unjustified simulacrum to the strength that once lived in his legs.

He doesn't entertain that idea. He used to, once upon a time, but now he thinks of them like one might think of shallow regrets.

Izaya walks towards the full length mirror located near his bedroom and looks at his reflection. The impact that his fur-trimmed coat usually carries is diminished by the metal he is hugging by his side, and his pallor seems to be an accurate imitation of a geisha. His lips look painfully dry. His hair is kept a little bit longer than he likes it to be, but like hell he'd go out and have it cut, not when he can ask someone trusted to do it.

He snorts. The amount of people he trusts are fewer than his fingers. The amount of people that trust him, less.

He twists his body, looking at himself from all possible angles. He nearly loses balance when he turns around in a way that he shouldn't, and when he looks back at his reflection, he wonders if the frustration that will never be gone from him is visible in the stark red of his eye or the heavy upturn of his lips.

There is a quiet clink of metal, so faint that his ears barely picked up on it, and by the time Izaya finally manages to turn around gracelessly it is not without great effort. He hears the door open, and he visibly tenses. Minuscule twitches start to appear on his body, so when he hears the heavy footsteps he recognizes the start of panic inside of him rushes out, leaving him with a terribly relieved feeling he isn't used to.

He strides forward, pushes himself until he reaches the living room, where a man is quietly towing off his shoes, placing them neatly in a manner that makes Izaya want to snort out loud, even when he doesn't understand why. His lips curl up in a soft grin, so unlike the ones he used to throw at people relentlessly.

"Shizu-chan," he greets, the name rolling off his lips smoothly like butter on hot rolls, the familiarity in his voice complementing the strangely pleasant fondness it holds. "Late as ever."

Heiwajima Shizuo, he thinks, is an enigma. A decade spending time with a person whom he used to consider as a monster, simply because Izaya dare not try to accept him as a human, lest he open up the can of worms buried so deeply inside him, and yet Izaya still cannot predict the why's of this person. He thinks it's okay, really, because he'll be bored if he starts to predict Shizuo.

"I'm here five minutes early," Shizuo says with a frown in his face. "Why are you standing? You should be sitting down."

"Careful, Shizu-chan, one might mistake you for my mom," quips Izaya. He pretends not to notice the irritation on Shizuo's face, choosing to smile at him warmly. "Not that my own mother is caring like you, though."

"Whatever, and don't call me that," replies Shizuo, the last phrase so overused for the past ten years it might as well have been a greeting between them. "Are you ready?"

Izaya hums, choosing not to answer immediately in lieu of walking forward to his companion.  "Catch me if I fall?"

"You won't," states Shizuo simply, as if by saying it he immediately has the power to see what happens to Izaya for the next five minutes.

Izaya rolls his eyes theatrically. "Ah, ah, but I need reassurance, Shizu-chan."

"Fine. I'll haul your bony ass off the floor before you even hit it."

"How comforting," is all Izaya remarks before he's handing Shizuo one of his crutches and leaning on his own two feet. He frowns, wondering if he glared hard enough, he can go back to jumping from building to building.

"Baby steps," says Shizuo. "Or whatever shit that doctor of yours told you."

Right, thinks Izaya, baby steps. He hands Shizuo the other one and, shakily (he has no qualms admitting his own weakness now) stands without support. Shizuo reaches out a hand but he ignores it, not out of rudeness but out of his desire to be independent.

Orihara Izaya stands tall.

Not taller than Heiwajima Shizuo, though.

"Okay?" asks Shizuo.

Hesitantly, Izaya takes a small step forward. This time he takes Shizuo's offered hand, and the heat that emanates from the rough palm is enough to shatter whatever shadow of pain he feels. Izaya's breath hitches when he takes another step because Shizuo's hand suddenly tightens in his; at this point, it isn't sufficient enough to say that electricity traveled through his arms. His whole physical body seems as if it ceased to exist, replaced by white surges of hot electricity crackling at every nerve ending he has.

What a fucking mess he is, if Shizuo's touch is enough to devour him like this.

"Okay." He isn't, but at the same time he is. "I can do it."

They walk around the room, Izaya getting more and more confident in each step and Shizuo hovering quietly behind him, until the former deemed himself presentable enough for today's event.

"Let's go?" Izaya asks, tugging on his coat to make sure it is clean and in the proper way. He's still standing. "I hope you have a cab waiting for us downstairs."

Shizuo throws him a look. "You know I do."

The ride to Ikebukuro is, frankly, uncomfortable, what with the hard cushions of the seat and being confined to a place. Izaya itches to walk again. Shizuo, on his side, seems content with leaning outside the window, looking at the blurred images of people walking or buildings they drove past by.

"Ne, Shizu-chan, what if someone ambushes us at 'Bukuro? What if they heard that oooh, the scary Orihara Izaya is back in town?"

"Haaa? Whoever they are, I'll kill 'em. And nobody will, flea. They don't even remember who you are, unless it's those yakuza punks you played around with."

And that was that.

 

* * *

 

 

Ikebukuro, in all its glory and unpleasantness, still remains the same.

Thank you, he wants to say, for staying the same. For playing with Izaya. For being a wonderful host to the existence of the many humans he loved, for unfailingly pulling the many strings of the very people that made his life decidedly more interesting.

"Oy, are you sure about this? We can go back to your apartment if you want."

Izaya throws Shizuo a disgusted look. "You're asking me to turn back?  _Now?_ Shizu-chan, don't be a bore."

"I'm asking you nicely."

Izaya sighs. "No, Shizu-chan. We've talked about this."

"But what if you.."  _get triggered,_ is what Shizuo was implying, and Izaya knows it. "get uncomfortable with the crowd?"

"How can I be when I'm already with you?" Izaya impishly says. "You've done your worst. I'm sure whatever they have to offer can't possibly trump yours."

Apparently it's the wrong thing to say even with lighthearted voice and an innocent smile, because Shizuo frowns and his shoulders stiffen just a tiny, tiny bit. Immediately, Izaya backtracks and he hastens to add, "Don't be fooled, Shizuo. I'm stronger than I look like."

"Did you mean to say annoying?"

Izaya pouts.

"Don't go pouty on me."

Izaya continues pouting.

Shizuo turns away from him, but by the tinge of red on the top of his left ear Izaya can guess what face he's already making.

"Shut up, flea." But he doesn't move away, or tries to shift further in his seat, still choosing to be near Izaya. There is heat in the words -- and yet, and yet, it wasn't the kind of heat that Shizuo's voice contained back then.

When the cab drops them off at Shinra's apartment complex, Shizuo gets out incredibly fast and tries to open Izaya's door. Keyword: try, because Izaya was already clambering out of the vehicle before Shizuo was even at his side. Izaya scowls at him.

"Stop being so fussy," he huffs.

"'M not being fussy," answers Shizuo with a glare of his own. "You- you just. Argh, let me do this, okay? When I told you I'd care for you, you let me, so stop complaining."

The taxi driver coughs and they are reminded that they need to pay. Izaya throws a couple of notes and thanks the driver politely, his interest in the human already gone when he had concluded everything he can from the driver's habits to his possible trauma. Shizuo looks at him oddly; Izaya isn't sure why.

The sun was nearly setting, Izaya notes absentmindedly, as Shizuo opens the doors for him and they enter the building together. Izaya's hit by a splash of nostalgia, taking in the familiar decorations of the building that he went through so many times since he was a teenager, and often when he was injured. There was that little crack in the wall that the maintenance unit  _still_ didn't notice, which might be due to the fact that it's cleverly hidden. This, he thinks with a little bit of fondness, was the work of Shizuo.

The elevator suffocates Izaya. He has the urge to bounce on his feet, to try and stave off the irritation he felt from waiting (he might be patient, but that does not mean he likes waiting) and wishes they used the stairs instead. Then he realizes Shizuo will probably carry him when he gets tired if they did take the stairs, and Izaya doesn't know whether that is a good thing or not.

When the doors open. Izaya quickly steps forward and goes out. To his dismay, whatever tension and anxiety he's feeling doesn't dissipate; instead, it rockets inside him and continues to bubble. The hallway to Shinra's apartment floor is the same. The door, on the other hand, differs from the one Izaya last saw -- unsurprising, considering Izaya hadn't had the chance to visit for the past two years.

Shizuo knocks on the door.

Izaya hears footsteps, excited, not unlike of those of a child waiting for a parent, and decides that it must be Shinra. Izaya backs away from the door and slips his hand casually in Shizuo's pocket. He's plastered on a confident smile before the footsteps reach the doorway.

The door is opened wide, and Kishitani Shinra  _beams_ at them. Izaya feels a quiver of something, something so close to delight and nostalgia as his friend in name smiles at them.

"Orihara-kun!" And there's a flash of white that Izaya's mind registers. Suddenly he is hugged none too gently, arms clasped around his neck, weight too heavy for him and Izaya nearly crumples, legs almost giving out if not for Shizuo's too fast hand supporting his shoulders.

And then Shinra's gone, lifted in the air. Izaya hears Shizuo's indignant "Oy! Watch it! Don't do that again!" before he sees Shinra's legs swinging comically.

Shinra, to his credit, looks undisturbed at Shizuo's apparent anger. He focuses on Izaya and smiles. "Orihara-kun, I am not surprised to see you alive and well! Bad weeds never die, after all!" He pushes his glasses up and continues smiling, unperturbed of the fact that he just insulted the 'friend' he hasn't seen for year. And yet the words aren't biting; Shinra's looking at him in a way that speaks more than what his mouth says, eyes shining, the look on his face saying that it's as if he almost missed Izaya.

Izaya's sure he also almost missed Shinra, too.

"Shizuo-kun, please put me back! Celty my love wouldn't be pleased, she's been waiting for you for ages! And in an apron, too! And Orihara-kun, she got you your favorite Ootoro, too. Isn't she a nice housewife?" Shinra says, sighing as he rubs his hands together. His face was contented -- it was the look that was present whenever Shinra talks about his beloved.

"Ah, tsk, just don't do that again," Shizuo grumbles. "Could've hurt the flea. Y'know how delicate he is."

Izaya's smile turns razor sharp. "Me, delicate? Say that again, Shizu-chan, and you'll know just how much I've already improved with my knifework."

"Izaya-kun is.." Shizuo's smile is feral. "More delicate than any other flower I've held in my hands."

He's already holding the knife he favors ( _spyderco centofante 4_ ) and it was a simple move to just slash Shizuo, but before the sharp edge of the metal touches skin Izaya stops. The knife points directly in front of Shizuo's chest, where his heart beats. Izaya holds Shizuo's gaze, more black than the brown they should be, as his hand slowly inches forwards and cuts through the clothes Shizuo's wearing, until he can feel his blade pierce skin and flesh ever so gently, the action contradicting the intention.

"Delicate, huh?"

"If you would prevent yourselves from killing each other for just one night, that'd be great!" Shinra's voice cuts and pervades the attention and focus they have on each other. Izaya flicks back his blade and hides it. Shizuo grumbles at the blood he's wiping from his shirt, but one of his hands reaches out absentmindedly to clutch Izaya's elbow as they step inside the threshold. "We can't keep my beloved Celty waiting for long!"

There are a dozen pairs of shoes in the hallway. Izaya obediently takes off his own, involuntarily wincing as he bends one of his legs to take it off. He holds Shizuo's arm, hard, to stop the blond from trying to help him.

Izaya continues walking until he reaches the end of the small hallway, where a group of familiar people are congregated.

"Ceeeelty! Did you miss me?" Shinra asks, bouncing towards the headless dullahan. Izaya hangs back, fingers curling into nothing, as he  _feels_ too many pairs of eyes train on him.

Celty, to her credit, stops Shinra and instead makes way towards the two of them.

[ Izaya! ]

"Hello, courier," says Izaya, politely as he could manage. "Or would you prefer that I call you Celty?"

A puff of smoke billows out from the neck. Izaya could only assume that it meant bewilderment, and not indignation.

[ Aah.. it feels weird if you start calling me by Celty.. but please do if you want. ]

[ Also, hello, Shizuo. ]

[ How was the trip? Was it comfortable? Izaya, would you like to sit down? We've got your favorite Ootoro! Shizuo, we've got your usual milk as well! ]

[ Please be comfortable! There are free seats on the table with Kadota because Yahiro-kun decided to sit on the couch! ]

[ Oh, you wouldn't know Yahiro-kun, Izaya. But you should! ]

[ He's nice. Please be kind to him. ]

"Calm down, Celty," reminds Shizuo. He's smiling softly. "Our trip was fine. And thanks, I guess."

Finally Izaya tears his eyes away from the dullahan and looks at the people inside Shinra's house. Fascinating, he thinks, as he feels the emotion he's often associated with  _love_ and  _fondness_ course through his entire body. The first person he notices is Kadota Kyouhei located at the table, sitting next to Shinra, who had saved a seat next to him, obviously for Celty. There are empty seats on the table and Izaya makes his way towards it.

Sonohara Anri was seating primly beside Ryuugamine Mikado, who has now donned spectacles and smiling in the same smile that Izaya remembers. Togusa Saburo has seated himself quite comfortably on one of the seats, and Karisawa Erika is stationed on the other side of Anri, eyes sparkling. Yumasaki Walker sits next to the fangirl, back to him.

Then Izaya's eyes are focusing on a dark haired kid with eyes of the same shade and a shy demeanor. Izaya would have written him off as not so interesting judging on the look of his face, but then Izaya sees the teeth marks on the hands and the subtle, dangerous aura that seemed to exude from the kid.

_Yahiro, huh. What an interesting human._

He sneaks a look at Shizuo and sees a glint of familiarity in the eyes and makes a mental note of it. The fact that Shizuo, who was so bad at names, recognizes the kid interests Izaya further.

"Izaya-san, long time no see. Shizuo-san, hello."

"Iza-Iza and Shizu-Shizu!"

"Shizuo, Izaya, you're late. Take a seat."

"Yo!"

Celty appears once again, carrying two plates and a jug of milk which she placed in the table.

[ Sit down, both of you. We've already started eating. ]

[ Ah, and is the seat okay, Izaya? ]

"The seat is fine," replies Izaya. His movements are robotic, the tension in his back making his spine stiffen as the unfurling coil of emotions sit inside his stomach. Izaya's never one for confusion, but right now, if he must admit, the reactions he received at being back at Ikebukuro is different from what he envisioned.

There are no outright bursts of "How dare you come back here!" or "Why are you with Shizuo?!" or even, "Go away! We don't want you here!" like he expected.

It's as if Izaya never went away.

It's as if he's welcome.

He feels like there's something lodge in his throat, with the way it closes up.

"Are you okay?" murmurs Shizuo near his ear as the blond seats himself beside Izaya. Izaya doesn't trust himself to speak so he jerks his head in a form of a nod.

"Remember.."

".. three taps if I'm not okay. Five taps if I want to go out. I know, Shizuo," whispers Izaya.

"'Kay."

Izaya stares at the empty bowls before him, at the unused chopsticks, at the boiling pot of mixed vegetables and meat and soup over the table stove. He stares at Shinra's face smiling at him giddily, looks at Kadota's hesitant smile, sees Celty's smoke occasionally puffing up in distress as she tries to make everything perfectly cooked.

They were all sitting together, all of them that started everything.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" asks Izaya when he has nothing left to say but the truth that he thinks. " _Itadakimasu,_ " he murmurs in addition, and everyone follows suit, save Celty.

"But we've never had any hotpot parties together," points out Kadota, already spooning rice into his bowl.

Shinra pipes up. "I think what Orihara-kun means is that we're all together, not just for the hotpot."

 "Ah, true, true.." Kadota nods. "Remember the Valentine incident?"

Beside him, Shizuo snorts as he takes Izaya's bowl and fills it with rice and vegetables. "Y'know, I never did confirm if that was your doing."

Izaya lifts his hands and touches Shizuo's chopsticks, effectively preventing him from picking carrots. "Wouldn't Shizu-chan like to know?"

"Hell, that's why I'm asking you, Izaya." Shizuo puts the carrots back and instead picks more cabbages. "And also the White Day."

[ Wait, is the Valentine and White Day incident that incident that you told me about, Shinra? ]

"Yes, Celty. Do you remember? When all the girls suddenly received letters from Shishizaki-senpai, telling them he wouldn't mind receiving chocolates.. and all the boys receiving letters telling them to meet someone.. Not that I would have, though. My heart lies solely with Celty."

[ So? Did Izaya actually do it? ]

Collectively they all turn to Izaya, who has now picked up his chopsticks and is poking the meat Shizuo has placed in his bowl. He feels their eyes on him and Izaya looks up. "What? What do you think?"

[ I think you did. ]

"Then you got your answer. Honestly.." Izaya trails off, biting onto the meat. It's tender and juicy, just the right flavor he wants it. It's delicious. Or maybe it's more delicious than it naturally is because he's eating it with others.

"Tsk. I got into a lot of shit because of that," growls Shizuo at him, but Izaya doesn't think it's as harsh as it's supposed to be. Not when Shizuo is pouring a cup of hot tea and water into separate cups and placing both on Izaya's plate space.

"All of us got into a lot of trouble in high school, let's face it. It was that time I learned how to set bones and stitch injuries quickly and efficiently."

[ You got into trouble?! Why didn't you stop them? ]

Shinra wails into his bowl of food. "I did, Celty, believe me! But they won't listen to me -- they'd only stop when Shishizaki-senpai intervenes, and when he graduated all hell broke lose. Or should I say, it broke lose even further?"

"Speaking of Shishizaki-senpai, I wonder what happened to him, huh.." Kadota muses, picking up meat and slowly chewing it. He turns his eyes toward Izaya. "Do you know how he is now?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not know everything," replies Izaya primly. Shizuo raises an eyebrow at him, cheeks bulging from his own food. Izaya continues, scowling. "Well. I made it a point not to think about Shishizaki Hajime. So I'm really not sure what happened to him for the past years; my data on him was that he was last seen in America."

"Orihara-kun admitting he doesn't know a thing? What's this, what's this?" comments Shinra.

Izaya sniffs. "I'm perfectly alright with admitting my shortcomings. I just don't make a habit of having them."

They all laugh, Celty's shoulders shaking with mirth. Izaya frowns.

[ A-ah! We're not making fun of you, Izaya. ] Her fingers continue typing. [ It's just strange to hear you saying that. ]

"Hmph," But Izaya can feel the irresistible upward tug of his lips so he allows himself a moment to smile, genuinely, not the teasing grins or the taunting smirks his mouth is fond of doing in front of other people, but the smile he likes to show no one in the comfortable solitude of his room. Izaya has no problem with smiling genuinely. After all, just thinking of his beloved humans is enough to make him happy. What he has problems with is smiling genuinely  _in front of other people,_ so to let himself smile in front of the people he have hurt, people whose forgiveness Izaya doesn't deserve.. It's freeing.

The conversation continues between them, and if Izaya hadn't been keeping track of time, he would have marveled at how utterly fast the night seemed to go. Before he knew it he was finishing the last of his Ootoro, Shizuo leaning back on the chair with an arm lying on the backrest of Izaya's chair while sipping on his milk, and everybody else sighing in contentment. Kadota's gang was wreaking minor havoc, until Karisawa Erika's eyes turn to Shizuo and Izaya.

Abruptly Izaya speaks loudly enough to cut whatever Erika's gonna say (presumably something about her own fantasies that Izaya does  _not_ wish to talk about). "Ne, Shinra, shouldn't you be introducing me properly to some of your guests?"

"Intro- ah, you mean Yahiro-kun? Hmph." Suddenly Shinra crosses his arms in a defensive manner. "What, are you going to exchange me for Yahiro-kun, too? Gonna trade your one and only friend for him? Even you, Orih--"

[ Stop that. ] Celty appears from him, cutting off his words with her shadows. [ Nobody's replacing you, Shinra, even Yahiro. ] She turns to Yahiro, who had been looking on with an abashed look in his face. [ Ah, Yahiro-kun, I'm sorry for Shinra. And I'm sure you know who he is by now, but this man is Orihara izaya. ]

Yahiro bows. "I'm Yahiro Mizuchi. It's nice to finally meet you, Orihara-san. I've heard much about you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," says Izaya, inclining his head in a polite but not overtly deferential manner. "I can't say the same for you, though."

Yahiro tilts his head to the side. "I'm nobody special, so that's not surprising, Orihara-san."

 _Nobody special,_ repeats Izaya in his mind, raising his eyebrow ever so slightly. "All humans are special to me, Yahiro-kun. Oh, may I call you Yahiro?" After receiving a nod, he continues. "As I said: all humans are special to me. Besides, Shizuo knows you."

Brows furrowed, Shizuo asks, "How did you know I know him?"

"Because you weren't looking at him like you were searching for a name," answers Izaya.

"And so what if I know him?"

"Shizu-chan, you remember at least around only twenty-five names. The fact that you remember him says a lot. Also.." he trails off, recalling a particular news site that amused him when he stumbled upon it. It all clicks together in his head, those facts he previously thought were inconsequential. "Ah. I see. I see. That's why Shizuo knows you.." The teeth marks in his hands, the shy demeanor, the absolute innocence in his face betraying the aura he exudes. "You are a very interesting human, Yahiro-kun. I look forward to seeing you more."

The night continues on, with Mikado and, one time, Anri, talking to Izaya about their life, and Kadota's gang being their usual selves. Shinra proceeds to switch between getting jealous over Yahiro (which, Izaya found out, was due to Yahiro being mistaken as the Headless Rider's boyfriend) and being obsessed with Celty and her attention.

Before long the visitors slowly panned out, giving cheerful waves and promises to meet again soon. Celty is in a tizzy; apparently, the prospect of holding yet another party is daunting for her. Soon enough, only Izaya and Shizuo are left.

[ You'll be going now, I presume? Would you two like a ride? ]

"Leave them be, Celty. For now we have the house to ourselves and we can consum--mppf." Yet again Shinra's mouth is gagged by Celty's shadows. Shizuo smiles.

Izaya shakes his head. "Don't bother."

Shinra looks at him and, to Izaya's neverending surprise -- what is it with humans surprising him this much in one night? -- steps forward and envelops him in an embrace.

"What's this, Shinra? Decided to be a proper friend now of all times?" Izaya snarks, but he isn't squirming back from the heat of Shinra's body. It's quite nice.

Shinra steps back and smiles gently. "It was nice seeing you, Orihara-kun," because even when Shinra's being friendlier than usual, Izaya is Orihara-kun to him. It's not as if Izaya minds. They have years to work on, anyway.

Shizuo places a warm hand on Izaya's elbows and starts to steer him towards the door. "Well, we'll best be going now. Thank you, Celty." Shizuo says.

Celty and Shinra look on, bodies almost pressed together as they wave goodbye to them.

 

* * *

 

They're walking, side by side.

Izaya knows they didn't need to do this, not when they could easily call a cab to retire earlier. But even when the night is not so young and all he just wants is to go to bed, he chose to say to Shizuo that he wants to walk. Shizuo obliges.

"Do you see that woman in the black cardigan, Shizu-chan? If you look closely, you'll see that there are remnants of dried tear tracks in her face. If you look closer, you'll see a tan line in her ring finger. If you think hard enough, you'll notice she just went out from a shoddy bar well known for its anonymous customers. From there one can deduce that she just broke up with her lover -- fascinating, isn't it? Humans speak and speak whatever they want, yet their actions and body language betray them. They're all so fascinating, so interesting. It's no wonder I can't stop loving them. I love humans. I love humanity. I would rather watch hundreds of people or one person than watch, say, a sunset or a sunrise of a meteor shower. Why watch the stars when you can watch something more beautiful? I really love humans."

Shizuo 'hmm's, and in Izaya's eyes it is obvious that he hasn't been listening. He glares. "You weren't listening, were you, Shizu-chan?"

"I was."

"You weren't," huffs Izaya, staring at Shizuo's taller frame. His legs are so tired but he keeps trudging on. "You think I wouldn't notice?"

"I did zone out in the first part when you started rambling about humans," admits Shizuo truthfully, brown eyes cutting towards Izaya's face. His lips quirk up in a wide grin and Izaya is struck by the suddenness of it, by the crinkle in Shizuo's eyes and how he squeezed Izaya's wrist gently. "But I do agree with you on one thing. Why watch the stars when you can watch something more beautiful?"

Izaya's ears burn red, the implication of Shizuo's words  _definitely_ not lost on him. His eyes itch to look down but hell if he'll back down from Shizuo's teasing grin and soulful eyes. He tilts his head back, an attempt at superiority in body language, and replies, honesty tasting more delicious than he's ever had. "While I admit stars have their own charm, I'd prefer looking at something more interesting, something I actually love."

Shizuo smiles.

The stars must have been beautiful that night, but it's not like Izaya looked at them, anyway.


End file.
